Tales Untold
by Sydelle Rein
Summary: Here's a collection of sidestories we know happened, but never got to read.Ex:Raoul taking Buri to his aunt's ball,Daine hunting the bandits with Brokefang's pack, etc. Each chapter's a new story.individual ratings and genres inside. Now up: Beka's Tale
1. Raoul's Tale

A/N: So this fic's going to be a collection of one-shots of side plots that we've heard about, but never got to read. Examples: Neal's proposal to Yuki, Daine hunting the bandits with Brokefang's pack, the ball where Raoul and Buri got together, etc. Please R&R! And if there's anything you'd like me to write about, please let me know via review, and I may just write it. Each chapter will be a new short story, completely unrelated to the previous ones.

**Raoul's Tale**

A/N: The tale of how Raoul and Buri got together.

Genre: Romance / Humor

Rating: K+

This fic was inspired by the following passage:

"_Why not bring someone?" asked Kel sensibly. "They can't try to match you up if you bring an eligible female. Not me, though. Not even for you, sir, would I face at your great-aunt's what I get at Grandmama's. … Why not Buri?" she suggested at last. "She won't get any romantic notions, you'll have someone to talk to, and maybe your relatives will leave you alone, at least about marriage."_

…

"_She'll never agree," Raoul said, one hand inching toward a sheet of parchement._

_Kel smiled and put the book down. "Not if you don't ask her. I'll take the message."_

_-_

"Not nervous are you, Raoul?"

Raoul jumped at the sound of his name. He'd been lost in his own thoughts for a while.

"Sorry," he said, feeling like a child caught not paying attention.

"Not having second thoughts about me meeting your parents, are you?" she asked teasingly, batting her eyelashes, making Raoul laugh.

"I'm just worried they won't fall for this," he admitted. "Maybe this was a bad idea…"

"So what happens if they don't fall for it?" Buri asked pointedly. "They go back to treating you like before. It can't possibly get any worse. It can only help, right?"

He smiled. "That's true I guess." He looked out the window of the carriage—which his aunt had insisted on sending them (Raoul assumed so he didn't smell like horse when she introduced him to the court ladies.) They were almost there. "I owe you for this, you know."

"What are friends for?"

A few minutes later, the carriage pulled to a stop. "You ready?" he asked. Buri rolled her eyes at him.

"Just go," she ordered him. He obediently opened the door and stepped out, then offering her a hand to help her out after him.

-

"Raoul dear! There you are!" An old lady approached the two when the entered. Buri stood back a few paces, waiting for Raoul to introduce them.

"Hello, Aunt Sebila," Raoul answered her, forcing a smile onto his face.

"And once again you come without a lady, I suppose. You know you really should think about settling down and starting a family," her voice was far louder than it needed to be, as her hearing was going. "But not to worry, dear, not to worry, there are plenty of single women here your Auntie wants you to meet! Come along!" she turned her back and began walking across the room.

"Actually," Raoul said, making her turn back around. "There is someone here I'd like _you _to meet." He beckoned for Buri to step forward. "May I introduce Buriram Tourakam, Commander of the Queen's Riders?"

Buri stepped forward and curtsied. She hated gowns, but for Raoul's sake she had donned one. At least it was simple, a deep shade of blue with no frills or bows.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Sebila," she lied, smiling sweetly. "And call me Buri, please."

"Buri," she said, frowning slightly, then she put on what looked like an incredibly painful smile. "Well come, dear, let's have a look at you." Buri wasn't quite sure what the lady wanted her to do, but she was spared having to figure that out when she gripped her hand and spun her around slowly. Then she turned to Raoul, speaking as though Buri wasn't there. "Well, Raoul, she's not as dainty a lady I would've thought for you. But then again, you did waste a lot of time in that army of yours, so I suppose you should be happy with her. It's not as if you could do better."

Buri put her hands on her hips. "Now wait just a dog-gone minute—"

"Oh there's Lady Tisyri! Tisyri! Wait up darling. We've loads of catching up to do!" Sebila walked after another lady, who had reluctantly stopped walking and turned to face her, she looked resigned to her fate.

Buri scowled at Raoul. "You really, _really_ owe me for this," she informed him promptly.

"Consider me in your debt," Raoul said in a strangled voice. Then he lost his inner battle. He couldn't help it—he laughed.

"Well I'm glad you find this amusing." She thumped him on the arm lightly.

"I'm sorry!" he said, trying desperately to stifle his laughter. "But I told you she was a dragon. Though at the last family reunion, she was doing the same thing to about ten different women at once, with no idea they could all hear every word she was saying."

"Wonderful. So now I get the brunt of the dragon's fire ten fold."

Laughter made the two of them turn around. "Raoul, you clever old dog," the man behind them said in good humor. His hair was a mix of white and gray, and very curly, with just a hint of brown to it in places. He was a large man, very tall. Buri looked from him to Raoul, they looked very much alike. "Why didn't I ever think of that?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Hello, Father," Raoul said sheepishly, blushing slightly.

"So is your name really Buri, miss?" the man asked, turning to her. "Or is that part of the performance as well?"

She grinned. She liked this man, and he didn't seem to mind that Raoul had brought her as trickery. "My name is indeed Buri, sir." She replied. "And I have no notion of what you speak regarding a 'performance.'" She batted her eyelashes in false innocence, making both father and son laugh.

"I like her," he announced to Raoul, smiling. "And not to worry, I won't tell Sebila. It's more than I could've hoped that my son actually came."

"As if I could've gotten out of coming!" Raoul exclaimed. "You told me that if I didn't come you would cut off my head, load it in a catapult, and launch it over Scanran borders."

"That didn't stop you from trying to ditch the reunion last year," he commented casually. He extended his hand to Buri. "I'm Ralerin, by the way. Raoul's father."

She took the offered hand. "I surmised as much," she admitted.

"In the meantime," he glared at his son. "Do not let me catch you using that name about your Aunt while you are here or I will make your life a misery," he thought about that, glancing around the room. "Even more of a misery than now," he added as an afterthought.

Raoul bowed mockingly, then straightened and saluted. "Yessir!"

"And you best not let her know you're faking, or she'll have you're head." He winked at Buri and walked away. 

"He seems nice," Buri commented. "He _won't_ tell her, will he?"

"Not father. You forget she's his aunt, too—my great aunt. She did this whole thing to him, as well. So he knows what it's like." The main door to the room opened, and a young woman walked in. "Oh Mithros, no…." Raoul muttered under his breath, face paling.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Lady Iona. Sebila was particularly interested in—hello Iona! How are you doing this evening?" she had walked straight up to them.

"I am fine, thank you Raoul." She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Buri suppressed a scowl. This woman was almost pretty. Almost. Her nose was a bit to big and her eyes a little too close together to be considered a beauty. "We must catch up later, you and I. It's been far too long since we've spoken." She moved a little closer to him, resting a hand on his arm. "Save a dance for me?" she asked, leaving, or at least attempting to leave, no room for argument.

"My dear, I would _love_ to dance with you," Raoul said, taking half a step back. "But unfortunately, I think my guest here would get bored if I left her alone in a room full of people she doesn't know."

Iona's eyes narrowed, making them seem even closer together than before. "She?" she aksed, her eyes moving onto Buri. "Hello," she said coldly.

"Lady Iona, may I introduce Lady Buriram Tourakam. Buri, Lady Iona."

"Charming to meet you," she said, still coldly. "Raoul, it's so nice to meet your _friend…_ Her voice trailed, inviting Raoul to either confirm or deny the statement.

Raoul thought about what he could say for a moment, trying to find a way to tell Iona this without making Buri entirely uncomfortable. "Actually, Buri's—"

"His lover," Buri interrupted, placing a possessive hand on his arm. Raoul put his arm around her, letting Buri lean into him.

"Oh, is that so?" Iona answered. Raoul kissed the top of Buri's head, trying to sell the lie. "How wonderful for the both of you. Why, I do believe I see Lehon over there," she said suddenly, looking passed the two. "If you'd excuse me?" she didn't wait for an answer before leaving them.

"Who's Lehon?" Buri asked, sliding from Raoul's grip. Her heart had quickened for some reason.

"My cousin, who as a matter of fact is _not _here tonight. I almost feel sorry for her."

"So who is she, exactly?"

"Someone the dragon has been quite persistent in trying to match me up with," he grinned at her. "I'm lucky to have such an understanding lover, who doesn't get jealous when a young lady tries to flirt with me."

Buri turned from him to look around the room, trying to hide the faint blush that had risen to her cheeks. When she was sure it had faded she turned back to him. "So how long are we here for, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Sebila's old. She can't stay up too late or she'll fall asleep in here. I reckon as soon as she retires we can duck out."

"Did I hear correctly?" A new woman, drew up to the two of them, an older woman, but not as old as Sebila. "Has my son found a new lady friend?"

Raoul sighed. "Hello, mother."

"Buri, isn't it?" she asked, offering a hand to her, who took it. "You're the commander of the Queen's Riders, aren't you?"

"Oh leave the poor boy alone," Ralerin ordered her good naturedly. "He gets enough trouble over women from Sebila."

The woman ignored him. "I'm Astia, Raoul's mother," she explained, offering her hand to Buri, which she took. "So how long have you and my son been courting?" she asked mischievously. "Are you planning on marriage?"

Raoul blushed scarlet. "Mother!" he exclaimed.

-

The evening went rather smoothly for a while, until five women—all from Sebila's matchmaking list—bombarded Raoul at once. Fortunately, about this time is when the dragon retired to her chambers, leaving Raoul and Buri free to take their leave.

Raoul and Buri left the carriage laughing. For all the lying, dodging the mad dragon, and sneaking away from disgruntled women, it had been a fun evening.

"You should have seen the look on your face when your mother mentioned marriage!" Buri told him, eyes watering from her laughter.

"Well what about _your_ face when Sebila said you weren't dainty enough?" he accused, a wicked gleam in his own eyes. She leaned on his shoulder, gasping for breath as they walked.

They reached the spot where their paths separated, but it took them some time still to calm down again, their laughter trailing off at last.

"Well," said Raoul at last. "Thank you for making tonight _much_ more bearable than it otherwise would have been." He said, turning to look her in the eye. Suddenly he realized they were standing very close together, for when he turned his head their faces were scant inches apart.

He shouldn't have done it; he knew that before he even did. But something about that evening had felt right. He lowered his face the last few inches and pressed his mouth to hers.

A small gasp escaped Buri, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

When at last they pulled apart, they didn't even speak about what had happened. But they both turned right and walked towards Raoul's rooms together: a much more…private setting.

A/N: Hope you liked it! More stories will be coming soon. Once again, if you have any ideas for future stories you'd like me to write about, please feel free to tell me via review. Thanks for reading!


	2. Blueness's Tale

**Blueness's Tale**

A/N: The tale of how Blueness got his name.

Genre: Humor

Rating: K

This fic was inspired by the following passage:

_Why is he named Blueness? She (-Daine-) asked as they trotted up a long flight of stairs._

_My mama said when he was my age, he fell into a bowl of color the cook uses on food, and he came out all blue. I can't believe he would be that undignified, but that's what my mama said, and she knows everything._

The cat eyed the butterfly with interest, crouching in the tall grass, tail twitching as the butterfly flapped its wings lazily. It fluttered, and landed on a flower. And…

Pounce!

The butterfly took flight, the cat pawing at it despite the fact that it was out of reach. He jumped for it. Twisting awkwardly, he fell on his side. But he just stood up and shook himself slightly.

I thought cats were supposed to always land on their feet, a voice teased, making the cat turn.

I'm just original! the cat informed the dog brightly, with a very cat-like smug look on his face.

I don't think I've seen you around here before, the dog informed him, curiosity entering his voice. Are you new here?

The cat hung his head bashfully. I snuck out, he admitted. Mama doesn't like me to leave the castle. She says it's dangerous.

Well that would explain why I never see you. I'm outside all the time. My Master is trying to train me to hunt wolves. He held himself up tall at these words.

Aren't dogs supposed to hunt cats? the cat asked, not at all afraid. Mama told me dogs like to chase us up into trees.

The dog sat, tail thumping on the ground. Master scolds us when we do. He only wants us chasing wolves. But these wolves are _strange_. But we'll get them eventually. I'm Prettyfoot, he said this with great pride. Master named me just yesterday. I _like _this name! What's yours?

I got no name, the cat told him. Mama says I'm too silly for a name. The humans haven't named me, either.

Well I will call you Kitten, then, Prettyfoot announced.

I am not a kitten! he insisted with all the dignity he could muster, trying to look intimidating. I am a cat! A big, _grown-up_ cat! Prettyfoot crouched to look the cat in the eye and gave a small yip of amused agreement.

Very well, what would you like me to call you?

The cat thought about this. What about the Clawmaster! He said with enthusiasm, extending his claws and sharpening them on the ground. Or…or The—

How about Kit? The dog asked, sitting up again.

The cat thought about this. Ok! he said at last. You can call me Kit. Prettyfoot yipped again and wagged his tail once.

Kit it is. His stomach growled, so he stood and pranced passed the newly-named Kit. I'm hungry, he informed the cat. You wanna get some food? He didn't wait for an answer, but Kit followed anyways.

What do dogs eat? he asked curiously, prancing alongside.

Anything! he answered. Bread, ham, turkey, whatever Master offers us. He give good food!

Ever try mice? Kit asked enthusiastically. Or rats? They're really tasty! And fun to catch. But mama says I'd get too bulky if I ate too many of them, so I try not to. But it's just so much fun!

Prettyfoot grimanced. Nope, he answered, never had mice. Aren't they annoying with so much fur? He asked, genuinely curious.

Nope! You just swallow 'em whole and you barely notice the fur. And then the humans females pet you and coon and say what a great hero you are! Especially the little ones.

They came to a place that smelled very much of dog, making Kit's nose twitch until he sneezed. Why are we here? he asked. Is there food here?

This is where the master feeds us, but he isn't here right now. It's a shortcut to the human food-place, though. And some of the two-leggers there love to sneak me food when the older ones aren't looking. I'm certain they'll give you food too, if you want.

One of the back doors was open, to allow some fresh air to flow through the food-place. Many two-leggers hurried around the room, dumping small bottles of liquids or strange-smelling powders into bowls. With the ease of great practice, Prettyfoot slipped in and quickly found one of the younger two-leggers, pawing the girl's leg gently and looking up with a pleading look in his eyes, willing to be fed.

"Oh you poor thing, Prettyfoot, you're hungry." The girl looked around, making sure no one was watching her and dropped one of the rolls she from her tray to the dog's waiting mouth. He chewed happily, giving the tiniest yip of thanks when he was finished, wagging his tail again.

Come on, he told Kit. It is not hard. This one especially loves the People.

Kit, always willing to try something new, ran forward towards and rubbed up against the girl's leg, purring loudly.

"Oh, Prettyfoot you brought a friend!" she set her tray down and picked Kit up. "What a sweet little kitten…"

I am not a kitten! Kit complained. I'm a cat!

"Would you like some milk, little one?" the girl asked, oblivious to Kit's irritation. At the mention of milk, however, the cat perked up, purring all the louder. She set him down again and left for a moment, returning from the other side of the room with a shallow dish and a jug of something. She set the dish down and poured some milk from the dish. Kit lapped eagerly.

I like this two-legger! Kit confided to Prettyfoot. Even if she _does_ treat me like a kitten.

Prettyfoot was about to respond, but his ears picked up as he listened to some unheard noise. Master calls, he told Kit. We hunt today! It is only my third hunt. Perhaps today I will catch a wolf! Goodbye, Kit. I'll see you again. He trotted off out the back door, leaving Kit to entertain himself.

Kit willingly did just that. When finished with his milk, he searched through this food-place—kitchen, he heard one of the two-leggers say. It had many interesting things. He wished he could get higher, so he could see things better.

There was a drawer open partway to his left. Aha! Kit told himself. I might be able to get up that way! He trotted over to it. Crouching low, he braced himself and jumped, landing half in, half out of the drawer. But he managed to pull himself in. It had small pieces of cloth in it. How boring, he thought. He braced himself again, and leapt the rest of the way to the counter overhead. He made it this time with no mishap.

No one noticed him at first. Mama had told Kit that the two-leggers were feasting together today, so those in this kitchen was bustling with everyone coming and going, carrying trays of interesting-looking food. He walked along the countertop, sniffing some of the bowls or trays that waited to be carried at the next round of food. He sniffed one and sneezed. The smell burned his nose! He swiped at his nose with a paw. Needless to say, this did absolutely nothing to relieve the itch. But it faded eventually.

He looked up. There was a shelf above him, where a very sweet smell was coming from. What was that? he wondered. He braced his legs for one more leap, and jumped as high as he could.

His jump was unbalanced, and he launched a little to the right as he went up, by accident. He gripped the shelf, digging in with his claws. A woman turned and screamed.

"Scat, you mangy cat, you!" she scolded, trying to pry Kit's grip from the shelf. Kit's grip slipped unexpectedly, making the woman drop him in surprise, and he tumbled into a bowl just below him—full of a water. At least he _thought _it was water…But it was very, very blue water, if it was.

The girl who'd given him the milk picked him up, as he was trying to drag himself out of the bowl. She giggled. "Oh look at you!" she said with obvious amusement. A towel was quickly applied to his sopping fur. When the worst of the wet was gone, the girl set the towel down on the counter. Kit was shocked to see it was covered in blue splotches. "You're all blue!"

"Iona, get that kitten out of here!" someone ordered the girl who held her, who quickly obeyed and darted outside with the cat.

I'm not a kitten! Kit insisted yet again. By Queensclaw, these two-leggers are slow.

"I'm going to call you Blueness," the girl—Iona informed her burden. "Even if we get this color out of your fur, I'll certainly never forget this." She giggled. "You are the silliest cat I ever met."

Kit—_Bluenes_s—yowled in agreement. Finally! At least _someone_ understood she wasn't a kitten!

And he liked his new name. To show this, he purred loudly again, making Iona giggle again.


	3. Joren's Tale

**Joren's Tale**

A/N: The tale of Joren's Ordeal of Knighthood

Genre: General

Rating: K+

This fic was inspired by the following passage:

"_My nephew Joren is dead," the other stranger cried. "The Chamber of the Ordeal opened on his corpse. He was to be the greatest of us," Burchard whispered. "My lord Wyldon said, after that first year, he was the most promising lad he'd seen." His eyes were adder-poisonous as he looked at Kel. "Jumped-up merchant slut," he whispered. "He was never the same after you arrived. Never. You witched him, cursed him."_

Joren sat in the washing bin, scrubbing himself clean while his knigthmaster, Paxton of Nond, and a second knight instructed him on the Code of Chivalry. They told him his duties to the realm, which he would take up if he survived his Ordeal of Knighthood.

Joren nearly grimanced when Paxton mentioned protecting both men and women, but swallowed the hot reply on his lips, even as the Yamani Lump's face swam into his mind. The realm had allowed a girl to take place in arms among men, where she had absolutely no place, and yet now he was being told to protect every chit out there like her. As far as he was concerned, the realm should make up its mind.

He realized he'd stopped listening and made a conscious effort to pay more attention, listening as they continued to tell him his duties to the crown and the land. It was enough to make him sick, all this traditional cheesy stuff. But he held his tongue. He only had to suffer through this one night, then he'd be free to enforce order his _own_ way. No more of this nonsense.

At last Paxton warned him not to utter a sound until he left the Chamber, and left him to sit in front of the Chamber door for his night-long vigil.

This is the most pointless thing I've ever done, he thought, sitting cross-legged on the ground. He could here the two knights beyond him get settled for the long night as well. But seriously—what good would come from starring at a door? He closed his eyes, begging for patience from no god in particular.

At long last a hand shook him out of a daze. Light shown through the widows once more: it was dawn. Someone—he wasn't sure who—motioned for him to stand up as the door in front of him opened. He obeyed. After eight long years of anticipation, Joren of Stone Mountain entered the Chamber of Ordeal. The door closed, leaving him in total and complete darkness.

_He blinked, and suddenly he was in a wide open field, with nothing but grass, dried from the blazing sun overhead, as far as the eye could see. Was this part of the Ordeal? he wondered. He began to walk aimlessly—something he had always hated. But what else could he do?_

_I thought you were supposed to be big and terrifying, Joren told the Chamber silently. I thought you were supposed to exploit the faults of knights-to-be, tearing them apart. So why aren't you doing that? Then his thoughts shifted, becoming cocky. Or is it that I have no faults for you to exploit? I wouldn't be surprised…Wyldon told me once I was the most promising page he'd ever seen, after all._

_Instantly, as if a reaction to his silent challenge, the scenery vanished, replaced by white walls all around him. A still painting—a portrait—was in front of him: a portrait of Keladry of Mindelan. She held a staff in her hand with eighteen inches of curved blade at the end. Wasn't that the weapon—the glaive—that Wyldon never let her use? Joren didn't need the Chamber didn't need to explain to him anything, he understood the unspoken question._

_The chit is of no importance. She never did manage to best me, though she tried. She never even figured out her her lance was filled with lead! She could never be better than me. She could never be better than anyone! _

_Your mind drips with fear, a voice answered loudly in his mind, rattling his very bones._

_I know no fear. And I thought this was supposed to be about _me

_It is…the voice replied._

_The portrait jumped to life, as the Yamani Lump leapt forward out of the wall, swinging her glaive. Suddenly a sword appeared in Joren's hand and he swung it up automatically, no thought as to wear it had come from. He blocked the swing. She swung over and over again—backing him towards a wall, but the wall never got any closer._

_This isn't real, Joren told himself firmly. It's just a trick of the Chamber! If I keep in mind that it's not real, it can't best me. It can't beat me and I'll win!_

_I am not afraid! He screamed inside his head at the chamber. I will never be bested! He swung his sword around in a half-arc, driving the glaive away from him and drove his sword forward. He struck again and again. But the Kel-image never wearied, never paused, never hesitated. She merely blocked blow after blow. Joren, however, grew weaker and weaker with every strike. Swear soaked his clothes. His hands grew slippery, and the hilt twisted in his grasp, despite his efforts to keep his sword firm and steady._

_The glaive twisted under and yanked the sword from Joren. Before he could realize what had happened, Kel turned and drove the blade into his belly._

_I am very real, the Chamber told the dying man. And everything that happens in here is real. You say you were the greatest—you have no flaw. Well I will tell you, mortal, never has anyone who entered in here failed so utterly and so quickly as you._

_Joren crumpled to the floor, dead. The chamber starred on with grim satisfaction._

_The world is free from your poison, it told the dead body._


	4. Daine's Tale

**Daine's Tale**

A/N: I didn't like the first version I wrote of this, so I've redone it. Hope you like it!

A/N: The tale of Daine running mad with the pack.

Genre: Angst

Rating: K+

This fic was inspired by the following passage:

"_I was afraid to tell the truth. You don't know what it's like, having them you knew all your life hunt you like you was a deer. Hearing them on your trail and knowing if you don't start running, your hide'll get stretched on a frame and the rest of you goes into someone's stewpot. And I_ was_ crazy, running on all fours, hunting with a pack. I wanted to forget all that if I could. I wanted to be all new here, all normal, just like everyone else."_

Cloud's reins slipped from numb fingers. Slowly, step by step, Daine moved towards the farm, her steps quickened. Soon she was running full out towards her home, smoke billowing into the sky from the charred house.

"Ma!" she shouted, running inside. "Granda!" She ran through the house. The ceiling no longer existed, neither did the upper floors. The lower ones weren't entirely destroyed. Ma had placed a lot of fire protection spells on the kitchen, after all.

She found her ma behind the house, a deep gash covered in dried blood across the woman's chest told Daine how she had died. She wept over her mother's dead body, wishing more fiercely than she ever had before that she had the Gift, that she could heal her poor ma. Her mind didn't register that even with the Gift, she could not save the dead woman.

Her Granda was dead as well, though he was lying peacefully on his bed. Ma always said he could sleep through an earthquake…Daine thought sadly. Smoke was heavier in this room than it had been in the kitchen. Daine guessed he had died of the lung rot from breathing too much smoke.

She was in a trance. Her life was shattered. Even the animals—dogs, cats, chickens, horses—were dead, their bodies scattered both indoors and out. They'd fought for their home and they had paid for it. Tears streamed down her face silently as she searched for any survivors. Cloud came trotting up to her from around the house, sullen.

I found Mammoth, she told the girl. He's alive, but not for long. The grey pony led Daine the direction she had come. Indeed, Mammoth was alive, but dying. He stirred when Daine approached, whimpering slightly. A deep gash was in his side.

"What happened, here?" Daine asked in a voice that croaked.

Bandits, the dog answered. Bandits attacked around dawn. We fought—all of us, even the chickens. You dam used her Light to keep them out, but one of them had a stronger Light and he made hers go away.

Daine tore a strip of cloth from her dress and pressed it to Mammoths side. He gave a shuddering breath at the pressure, whimpering slightly.

"I'm sorry," Daine whispered, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Trying and failing.

Be strong, Mammoth told her. Your smart for a two-legger, you can make it on your own. Every pup needs to grow up sometime.

"I can't," she told him desperately, trying to make him understand. "Humans don't grow up as fast as pups, I'm not ready!" The dog struggled to raise himself slightly and licked her face.

I have faith in you, he told her.

Those were his last words to her. She sat there, hugging his limp body, still warm—not yet cold in death.

-

It was two days before anyone came to see the damage. By then, Daine had managed to burry her family. Ma and Grandda had their own graves, the animals all had one, common grave, though. Daine would have preferred to dig separate ones from them, but she hadn't the strength. She stayed in the field, with Cloud to warm her at night. She couldn't bare going inside that empty, cold house.

When the villagers finally did come, she lost it. She threw stones, and sticks and pots, anything she could find—screaming at them to get out! Daine trembled in her rage. She could've been alive! She cried at them. Ma could've been lying here dying with no one to help because no one came! She delivered some of you! AFTER ALL SHE DID FOR YOU IT TOOK YOU TWO DAYS?!?!

They left. And not long after that the wolves came.

What happened here? their pack leader, Brokefang, asked. The scent of blood is strong, and smoke.

"Bandits came," Daine answered sadly.

What is a bandits? the boss female, Rattail asked, curling up at the girl's side.

"Bad two-leggers, from another Pack," she explained, trying to put it into words they would understand. "Bad humans that hunts us like we was prey."

All around her the wolves snarled, fur bristling. That is sick, one of them—Fleetfoot—answered. To hunt one's own kind as if they were deer? The rest of the pack snarled their agreement.

We will hunt with you, Brokefang informed Daine. Together we will run this other pack down and kill them. Let them feel what it's like to be hunted like prey.

-

As promised, after a day of rest the wolves led Daine on the hunt. Daine caught herself sniffing the air on several occasions, trying to catch a whiff of the bandits herself. The wolves had no trouble of course. The burnt farm reeked of the bandits, leaving a very clear trail for the wolves' sensitive noses.

Stop that, Cloud ordered her when she lifted her nose again. You are not a wolf, stop acting like one.

With a sigh, Daine returned to merely following the Pack. She wished she were a wolf. Then she could belong to this Pack for real. And no one—not even bandits—would be able to take her family from her then.

Daine spotted Fleetfoot and a few others sniffing Cloud curiously a few times, but she wouldn't let them hurt her.

"Cloud is my Pack," she told the wolves firmly. "The only Pack I gots now. You leave her be." The wolves obeyed, saying that if the pony was her Pack, she was theirs too.

A few days passed before they caught up with the bandits, but at last they did. The Pack would've rushed straight into the cave where they were held up, but Daine wouldn't allow them to.

"There are too many," she whispered to the wolves. It was against their instincts, but they finally subdued to her judgement.

This is your hunt, Brokefang told her. We will follow your lead.

So they picked off the sentries first. Then the second set of sentries—they were too drunk to realize the first shift hadn't come back. Daine snarled under her breath at every kill. Finally, there were only a few left, and the Pack stormed into the cave, taking the remaining bandits by surprise and killing them all. The women taken captive from the village fled.

Daine lifted her head back and howled the call of a triumphant hunt. The Pack joined her, celebrating. Cloud cowered away from them all.

Once the adrenaline from the kill had faded, Daine realized she had a cut in her side. It wasn't deep, but it ached. She tried to lick the cut clean, without success. Brokefang, seeing the trouble, came over and performed the task for her.

They returned to the wolves' den. Cloud stayed behind them, a good distance away, but followed none-the-less. Daine was glad—Cloud was Pack.

-

It wasn't long after that when the Snowsdale folks came. Hakkan Falconer came to her ahead of the others.

"The village women you set free are safe," he informed her gently, down the hill from the den. "They told us what happened, how you attacked the bandits, allowing them to escape." Something in his scent wasn't right, but she couldn't place it. He offered her to stay with him, as his own daughter. "I'll take care of you," he said.

Daine crept out of the cave on all fours, onto the road, not sure what to think. When she entered the road is when she recognized the strange scent—sweat. The cold sweat of fear. There were people with Hakkam, one of them had a bow. But Cloud snuck up behind the man and kicked him, making him shoot too soon. Daine fled.

"Crazy monster!" Hakkam shouted after her. "This is for your own damn good! You're like a rabid bear. Come out now and we'll be merciful! You'll have a quick end!"

Cloud and Daine fled, not falling for his version of "merciful." They tried to send the dogs and horses, but they wouldn't go. The fools…as if they could get their animals after her.

Pony and girl ran through the mountain, the villagers in hot pursuit. The chase lasted most of a week. Cloud began biting Daine to keep her going, pushing her forward. The more often she bit her, the more Daine became to come to herself again. At last she returned to her hind feet, and memory flooded from the last two weeks.

Great Mithros what have I done? Daine asked herself silently when she remembered she was human. No wonder the villagers had hunted her! She _was_ a monster.

"We have to leave, Cloud," she whispered to the pony. "They'll kill us if we're caught."

Really? I had no notion, Cloud told her sarcastically. It was the first time Daine had heard the pony's voice since they had hunted the bandits.

She found the wolves one last time, to explain to them why she was leaving. It scared her witless to approach them—what if she went mad again? But they had helped her when she most desperately needed help. She couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

Finally, girl and pony made their way out of the valley—away from the dreadful occurrences that Daine knew would haunt her for the rest of her life. They snuck south. Maybe Daine would be able to get a job somewhere, helping with horses or dogs or falcons. She could be a new person outside, and she'd never have to see this place again.


	5. Dom's Tale

**Dom's Tale**

A/N: The tale of Dom betting Kel would stay on Peachblossom.

Genre: General

Rating: K

This fic was inspired by the following passage:

"_I see you've still got your overgrown horse," he (-Dom-) said with a nod toward Peachblossom. "I was new to the King's Own that day we saw you tilting. Everybody but me bet you'd come straight off his back when he reared. I won a meal at The Jugged Hare because I bet you'd stay on." He bowed to Kel as she wiped her fingers on the handkerchief she kept tucked in her boot top. "Domitan of Masbolle at your service, Squire Keladry. Your page-sponsor was a certain mad cousin of mine."_

"So what do you want to do on our day off?"

Domitan of Masbolle shrugged his reply. Then an idea hit him. "We could go pay an oh-so-_pleasant_ visit to my cousin," he suggested suddenly, placing mock emphasis on the word "pleasant."

"The famous Meathead?" Wolset, his fellow soldier, asked.

"The one and only."

"But he's a page, right? The pages will all be working. They don't get free time until after supper."

Dom shrugged again, this time with a very evil grin on his face. "So it won't be so pleasant…We'll just go watch him screw up in front of Lord Wyldon and make fun of him for it later."

Wyldon grinned. "That sounds quite enjoyable." So the two headed towards the outdoor practice courts, where they supposed the pages would all be practicing.

Nope.

"Darn it, where else could they be?" Dom asked the air, looking around.

"The pages are in the tilting fields," a voice said behind them, making the two jump, "if that's who you're looking for."

"Yes, milord," Dom and Wolset replied in unison, nervously. Dom bowed stiffly, Wolset quickly copying his action.

Lord Raoul sighed. "You know, you don't _have_ to be so formal. I'm not as stuffy as some of the other nobles around here," he leaned down closer to them, looking around in fake anxiety. "Though you didn't hear that from me…"

"Yessir," Dom said, and headed towards the tilting fields. He and Wolset were both fairly new to the King's Own, and didn't know quite what to make of their Knight Commander yet. He seemed all right, but that could be a ploy to catch them in misbehavior.

"Hold up you two!" Raoul called after their hurried escape attempt. "I'll go with you. I want to check out the future squires."

"But you never take a squire!" Wolset said in surprise without thinking. Dom stepped on his foot as hard as he could without losing subtleness. Raoul laughed, seeing the silent exchange.

"Well maybe that's because there haven't been any squires that can hack life in the Own," he replied good-naturedly. "Or maybe it's just because I'm too cheap to equip an extra person…I'll leave that for you two to decide." He began walking again, leaving his two soldiers in stunned silence walking behind them.

They reached the fields just in time to see the "famous Meathead" Nealan of Queenscove miss the tilting target and get thumped in the back from the sandbag, much to Dom's delight. Many of his fellow Own-members were already there, watching the young warriors-to-be attempt to tilt. Raoul chuckled at the next boy who charged the target, who also missed. Dom had to laugh too. Raoul was one of the best tilters in Tortal. His views on these less than accurate attempts must be quite amusing, indeed.

"Bet you this next lad falls off his horse," Wolset muttered into Dom's ear. Dom turned to watch the selected page. He was a younger one of the bunch—a first year by the looks of it. His horse was a very large strawberry-roan gelding that looked much too big for the boy. He looked quite serious though, studying the target until the previous boy cleared the field.

"You're up, Probationer!" Lord Wyldon, the training master, called.

Probationer? Dom thought. That couldn't be…could it? He nearly laughed at his own folly. Of course it could be! These were the pages, after all.

Neal had written to him, telling him of the page he was sponsoring—Keladry of Mindelan, her name was. She was the first known female page in over a century. She came from the Yamani Islands, according to Neal, and because of this most called her the "Yamani Lump." Looking at her now, he could understand why. Her face was completely emotionless. It was almost eerie.

But if Neal was right, she was the most promising of the whole lot of pages. This in mind, he turned back to Wolset.

"Bet you a drink at The Jugged Hare she stays on," he muttered back.

"_She?_ You mean that's—"

"The Girl?" another of the soldiers asked?

"Oh you're on!" Wolset exclaimed. "And how about five gold nobles, as well?" he added, holding out his hand for Dom to shake, which he took without hesitation.

"Go!" Wyldon called.

The girl—Kel, lowered her lance with what looked like much difficulty, muttered something to her mount, and charged down the field with lightning speed, aiming for the target.

"Get your point up! Get it up!" Wyldon called after her. Indeed, her lance was too low, and lowering. "Raise your _point!" _In the end she barely managed to clip the shield's edge. Then she turned her mount around to return to the rest of the pages.

Dom wasn't too sure what happened, but the horse reared onto its hind legs all of a sudden. Wolset smirked, confident he had won. But Dom still wasn't too sure.

And he was right. It took a few moments, but Kel managed to spin her horse around so he wouldn't fall backwards and get him on four feet again. She patted him encouragingly, muttering soothing words, then dismounted.

"The horse is too big for that page," Raoul called to Wyldon. Dom was still watching the girl. Her head snapped up at the new voice. ""I'm surprised you let him ride that gelding, Cavall." For a moment her face paled, but then it returned to normal and leaked out no embarrassment at all.

"The probationer picked that mount herself, Goldenlake," Wyldon replied. All down the line of people there were whispers of "the Girl?" from those who hadn't heard Dom's and Wolset's previous conversation. "She had a choice of horses, just like the others."

Raoul looked more closely at the page. "This is the girl?" he asked, surprised.

Dom, however, stopped paying attention and instead held out his hand to Wolset. Grumbling, the soldier deposited five gold coins into his fellow's hand. "And how 'bout that drink?" Dom asked with a smirk.

"You're really lucky, you know that? No girl could've done that. She got lucky, so you did too."

Dom disagreed, and looked back at Keladry. He wasn't entirely sure _he'd_ have been able to stay on that horse. Neal was right. That girl had some serious talent. He hoped she'd pass her probationary year and be allowed to continue. The realm could use another fine warrior like that—female or no.


	6. Beka's Tale

**Beka's Tale**

A/N: The Tale of Beka hunting the Bold Brass Gang

Genre: General

Rating: T

This fic was inspired by **Lily. **Thanks a billion for the idea! And the following passage, of course:

"_She -Beka- took against one of them. He was living with her mama. When he found out her mama had lung rot, he beat her up and took all she had of value. The girl Dogged him. Dogged him like you two would do it, kept out of his sight. If she lost him, she just found him later at his favorite places."_

Mama's been coughing real bad lately. I'm real worried. But when I said something to her she said she was fine.

"Ma?" I said when she started coughing again. "You al'ight?"

"Yes yes, child. I'm fine. Just a bit o' a cough," she responded, sipping on her water.

"You bin coughin' an awful lot lately," I insisted. "We should get a healer."

"Nonsense, I'm fine. Just old, tha's all. Now, I don't want you a-worrying over me. All'ight little missy? Now why don't you go to town? I don't want you hovering around indoors all day, it's not healthy."

I nodded to her, but I didn't mean it. She'd been coughing all week. I wouldn't call for a healer, but I wouldn't go to the market either. I needed to be here to watch over her. She couldn't know that though. So I hid in her closet, where I could see her, but she couldn't see me.

I watched her all day. She never left bed, not even when she ran out of water. And she kept coughing and coughing. I was about to leave to get a healer after all when…._he_ came in. Dujan. (a/n: I don't think his name was ever mentioned, so I made one up. Correct me if I'm wrong? Thanks)

"You still in bed?" I hate that man. "You sick or something? Gods," he came towards the closet, taking off his cloak. I held my breath. I really, _really_ didn't want him to catch me in here.

"Don't tell Beka," Mama said softly, he turned to face her, to my relief. "But yes."

"What's wrong, woman?" I bristled at his tone. I hated everything about him. His raspy voice, his scarred hands, his unshaven face.

"I don't know how much longer I'm going to make it," Mama admitted, to my confusion. I didn't understand yet. "I've got the lung rot. And I can't shake it."

I watched through the door crack. His face darkened considerably. "Are you…?"

"I think so," was the even softer reply.

There was a small silence. "How long?"

"I don't know. A few weeks? Maybe?"

"Did you call a healer?"

"You know lung rot, you can't heal it. It either goes away on its own or it—" at this point she erupted into another coughing fit. "Doesn't." she finished.

Dujan stood still for a long moment. Then, without any change in expression, he walked calmly over to her bedside, starring at her for several more long moments.

Then he punched her. Straight in face.

I had to stuff my fist into my mouth to keep from screaming. How could he? I knew he was evil but I didn't know he was _that_ evil!

I thought he was done then, that perhaps he'd just let out some anger built up inside of him that the woman who had loved him was dying. But I was wrong. He punched her again and again. Mama cried out in pain and fear. I wanted to run to him, to pull him away from my mama and punch _him_ in the face over and over again! See how well _he_ liked it! But Mama's voice rang in my head as clearly as if she'd been a mage and spoken them in my mind.

_He'll only hurt you, too._ That's what the voice said. And the voice was right. I'm only eight years old! And he's…I'm not sure exactly, but much much much older than that. So I bit into my fist—which was still in my mouth—until it bled. I hated myself for it, too. I sat there, cowering in a closet while that rusher beat my Ma!

I don't know how long I sat there, looking on, horrified. But eventually Mama stopped struggling and lay limp. Then Dujan did something—I wasn't sure what, his back was turned. But when he turned around again he had Mama's necklace—the one he'd given her, with a bright green emerald in the middle—in his hand. It was the only nice thing Mama ever had, and I often wondered where he'd gotten money for such a jewel. But that's not important right now.

Anyway, so he took the necklace and put it in his pocket. Then just walked out! I waited a few seconds to make sure he was gone, then jetted from my hiding spot and rushed to Mama.

I thought she was dead, at first. But she wasn't, just unconscious, though she was pretty beat up. Her face was all bloody—looked like he had broken her nose. She was on the floor now, where her struggles had deposited her.

I knew what I had to do.

-

First thing first, I went to the market and managed to pick-pocket some copper coins. I'd been practicing. Of course Mama didn't know this, but that's how I'd gotten our last three meals while she was in bed. Then I took the money to the city healer and told her where to find my ma.

Next, I went after Dujan.

I found him having a beer in one of the local bars. My blood boiled. He was with some woman. I spotted him just in time to see him put my Mama's necklace around her neck and clasp it. I clenched my fists tight, but stayed hidden and watched. I couldn't do anything yet. All I could do was wait for my time.

He left with the woman, and I dogged him. They went to what looked like must be her house. I left then. I knew what they were going to do and didn't wanna see it. I was fairly sure he'd be there when I came back. And besides, even if he wasn't I was confident I could find him again. So I took this opportunity to pickpocket some more coins and buy dinner for my family. I snuck into the house, not wanting any of my brothers or sisters to ask where I've been. I put the two loaves of bread I'd bought on our shabby table. That'd hold them.

I peaked in on my ma real quick, to. The healer had seen to her already. She looked healthy enough as far as injuries went. But even in the short time I stayed she was still coughing something fierce.

Then I left again, backtracking to that woman's home. I'd been wrong—and he wasn't there when I came back. But the woman still had the necklace on, which told me he'd be back. So if I got desperate, I could always wait around here for him to return. But I wanted to find him _now_. So I searched his favorite places: the bar of course, the inn, his favorite stalls in the marketplace…

I finally found him. He was in the marketplace, but leaving—weaving his way through the crowd. I followed. I wasn't entirely sure what I was planning on doing, yet, but all I knew was I couldn't let him get away with what he'd done.

He looked back several times, and it's a wonder he didn't see me. But I was too careful to be caught. He led me into the city slums, lower even then where Mama and us lived. I wasn't sure where he was heading. I'd never seen him down here before.

He looked over his shoulder more often the deeper we went. Finally, he entered a very run down building—an old warehouse or something, but abandoned. He stopped in the far corner of the warehouse, lifted an old, dusty rug from the ground, and knocked on the ground.

A hidden trapdoor I hadn't been able to see from my hiding spot (looking through the side window of the building) opened and I could see a pair of eyes peer up through it. Dujan said something—I couldn't hear what—and then the person below moved down again, allowing Dujan to descend.

When the two were gone from view again, I made my way inside through an open window pane. I didn't want to use the door, it would be too noticeable, from outside _and_ inside (if anyone came up.) I snuck over towards the trapdoor, tip-toeing as lightly as I could.

I put my ear to the trapdoor, listening hard. Nope, someone was still there. I could hear their breathing. But I paused…listening harder. Was he snoring? I waited a long time for any movement—none.

Gathering my courage, I lifted the door up a tiny crack and peered in. Sure enough—the man below was slumped on the descending stairs, head lolled back, mouth open and snoring.

Slowly, I opened the door the rest of the way and descended. When I passed the sleeping man, I held my nose. He reeked of alcohol—easily drunk. From the looks of it, he'd be out for a while. Hopefully.

I snuck passed him. There was another door at the foot of the stairs. I knelt down and peered through the keyhole.

There he was: Dujan. He was with a bunch of other men, too, all burly looking, and mean. I waited. From here I could hear everything.

"Dead?" a man asked.

Dujan nodded. "Good an' dead. I've moved on to another chit, now. I'll milk her for all she's worth and do the same thing. She's got the necklace now." He laughed. "The bitch actually thinks it's worth something."

"So our extra eyes are still in place, then. Nice move, Dujan. It's times like this that remind me why I included you in the Bold Brass Gang."

My eyes widened. The Bold Brass Gang was the most wanted gang by the Lord Provest! Then an idea came to me. _Now_ I could do something. Carefully, I backed out and up the stairs. The stupid guard was still passed out. But I didn't care—made it that much easier for me.

-

"But you _have_ to listen!" I demanded. He didn't believe me! The Dog didn't believe I could hand him the Bold Brass Gang.

"Why should I listen to a girl-child? We've been searching for the Bold Brass Gang for years. And you're telling us that you—a mere six year-old—has found them while the best of the Dogs could not?"

"I'm eight," I muttered. The more this man spoke the more I disliked him. He was too sure of himself—cocky, even. There was no way he'd ever listen to anyone so far below his rank. I needed a new plan.

"We won't reach agreement?" I asked, a final stab before abandoning this attempt entirely. He merely laughed.

"I have wasted enough time on you. Leave my sight or I shall have you removed by force."

I left, without a bow, and without so much as a word of goodbye. Manners were wasted on him; just as his time was "wasted" on me. He'd be sorry. He'd realize he made the biggest mistake of his career and then he'd be sorry.

I was done fooling around. So I went straight to the Lord Provost himself. It wasn't hard to find him. Harder, though, would be getting him to listen to me.

He listened, though I wasn't sure he believed me. It was more like he was humoring me, which made my blood boil again.

"It's the truth!" I shouted, angry beyond belief.

"I never said it wasn't," he said calmly. But his eyes said otherwise. "Tell me though, why does the Bold Brass Gang interest you?"

I glared at him. I didn't wanna tell him what happened to my Ma. But it was a fair question. And I had to make him believe me. "One of them members beet my Ma," I told him, clenching my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. "So I followed him. I don't care about the others, so long as he goes down with them."

He studied me, and I kept eye contact. He'd believe me. He'd make Dujan pay.

"I don't know," he said at last. I gapped at him. How could all these Dogs be so _stupid?_ I opened my mouth to tell him as much but he cut me off. "But I'll check it out," he promised. That was the best I could hope for at this point, so I told him about the warehouse and the trap door.

-

It was days later when I saw the Provost again. I'd almost given up hope that he'd actually checked it out like he promised. He came to our house. Mama was still in bed, but my brothers and sisters starred at him curiously.

"Go see how Mama's doing," I ordered. They grumbled, but at last took the hint and trickled out of the room.

The Provost lost no time. "You were right," he said simply, gazing down at her in wonderment. "How old are you?" he asked.

I stared, not expecting the question. "Eight," I answered, gazing at him in much the same fashion.

"How's your Ma doing?" he asked kindly.

I studied him. What was this about. "Terrible," I said honestly. "Why?"

"Well Beka—you did say Beka, right?—I owe you my job," he said simply. "I was this close to being replaced, but now I'm not. All because _you_ gave me the Bold Brass Gang."

So he had taken them down, after all. I grinned a savage, triumphant grin. Dujan would think twice before beating my ma again.

"So to repay you," he continued, "how would you like to come live with me? You and your whole family. I'll take care of you all." I gapped at him again. This was even _less_ expected. "And when you're older, you can come to work for me. As a Dog."

"M-me?" I stammered. "A Dog?"

"Why not? You certainly display a knack for it. You did in a day what no one else could do in years."

I starred at him. It would be better than being here, living off the street. Mama could get some proper rest.

"All of us?" I asked him, determined not to be trapped by some loophole. "Me and my brothers and sisters and Ma? And you'll take care of us?"

"All of you," he said honestly.

He was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes. "All right," I said. "And I'll be a Dog."

"Excellent."


End file.
